


Our Lives to Make

by fandomlver



Series: Not what they Appear [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, can't believe I haven't posted this already, sorry about that, thinking thinky thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlver/pseuds/fandomlver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erebor is not quite what Fili thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Lives to Make

Fíli is suffocating under the Mountain.

It's not the responsibilities, though they are heavy enough. He's trained for this, he knows what to do. More and more of their people are coming back to Erebor, and the other kingdoms are beginning to send envoys to reopen trade. Fíli has become his uncle's second and everyone in the Mountain looks to him.

He can handle that. He knows how to deal with people. He knows what his uncle wants him to do, and he knows how to make people underestimate him so that he can surprise them later. It's difficult, but it's nothing he can't handle.

It's the Mountain.

Kíli has become his right hand, standing by his shoulder when he greets envoys, teasing him away from his work when the sun goes down. But their supply lines are not open yet, and Kíli spends a lot of time outside the Mountain, leading hunting and foraging parties. Fíli doesn't begrudge him the time outside; he only wishes he could go with him.

A Dwarf, claustrophobic in their own halls. His uncle would be so disappointed in him.

He can't explain it. The Mountain is not a mine, except in the deepest parts; it's a true city, streets and steps and wide open spaces, parts so high he can't even see the ceiling. It's dim, certainly, and the air is always slightly stale, but he's a Dwarf. This is his home. He shouldn't be yearning for open spaces, or worse, for trees and lakes and green. He shouldn't have moments where he can't breathe for the feel of the Mountain bearing down on him, threatening to bury him alive.

Fíli doesn't think Kíli knows. At least, he's never said anything. But as time goes by he becomes more insistent about having Fíli join him on a hunting trip. "Just you and me, brother," he says earnestly. "The way we used to. Uncle will manage without you for a couple of days."

And Fíli wants to go so badly he can taste it, but he always shakes his head and smiles. "After this visit," he promises. "After the talks with Bard." "After the new mine shaft is stable." "After." "After." "After." And Kíli sighs, shakes his head, and goes without him.

Bilbo comes to see Fíli one evening. They're hosting a delegation from Mirkwood; Kíli has taken advantage to take Tauriel and Legolas Thranduilion into the woods. He spoke of swapping bows with the She Elf, a challenge to see who could shoot better with a bow not their own. He asked Fíli to come.

And Fíli wanted it, more than anything, but Thorin is still steely and angry and he can't be left to deal with Elves on his own; they need the Mirkwood trade. So he'd smiled, and shaken his head, and sent Kíli away, and tried not to think that one day soon Kíli will stop asking.

He thinks he might die when that day comes, when Kíli gives up on him.

Bilbo leans against the door of the tiny room Fíli works from for a while. Fíli ignores him, concentrating on the trade agreement. Thranduil insists on writing them in Sindarin, and though Tauriel translates for him and he trusts her words, he still prefers to read them himself, to insure nothing slips past him.

He's not sure his uncle knows he can read Sindarin. He's never dared bring it up.

Eventually Bilbo steps in, clearing his throat loudly, and Fíli is forced to look up. "Master Hobbit."

Bilbo snorts. He doesn't like the title, Fíli knows. "Master Dwarf," he says dryly.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Yes, you can." Bilbo looks expectantly towards the door.

"I have work to do."

"I know it's easy to lose track down here, but it is the middle of the night." Fíli doesn't bother pointing out that it's easy to tell time if you can read the shadows, the way any Dwarf can from the cradle. "Surely you can take a few minutes, to walk with me."

"What is it you need help with?"

Bilbo hooks his thumbs through his belt. "Your brother told me once that if I had questions about Dwarfish culture, I should come to him, or you. That if you could answer, you would, and if you could not, you would tell me so without wrapping it in riddles."

Fíli nods wearily. It sounds like something Kíli would say. He's always been fond of their Burglar. "And you have a question?"

"And he's not here, I'm afraid. Please. It won't take long."

"And you can't ask me here because..."

Bilbo only looks towards the door again, and Fíli sighs, giving in. It's not such a bad idea, if he's honest. The words are starting to swim in front of his eyes; a rest might be helpful.

He doesn't bother paying attention to where they're going, just follows Bilbo through the halls. He's surprised when they step out onto a balcony, high on the side of the Mountain. Leaning over the side, he can see the wall far below; if he squints, he can see the guards moving back and forth along it. For a moment he watches them, trying to see if he needs to change the pattern or order more guards, even though Dwalin's in charge of all their security.

Bilbo laughs softly beside him, and Fíli turns back to him. "What is it I can help you with, Bilbo?"

"Kíli said that I could ask either of you anything, and you wouldn't take offense."

"No offense," Fíli agrees. He's honestly not sure what Bilbo could say to cause offence.

Bilbo turns towards the edge of the balcony, looking towards Laketown. "This is Erebor. It's coming back to life. Everything Thorin hoped for, everything we all fought for; a homeland for the Dwarves, somewhere to be safe."

"Yes," Fíli agrees, not sure where he's going.

"This is what you wanted."

"Yes," he repeats.

Bilbo turns his head to look him square on. "Why are you so unhappy, Fíli?"

Fíli can't think how to react for a long moment. Finally he leans against the railing, sliding down to sit on the ground. It's cold, but he can't bring himself to care; it's moving air, and he can see green on the slopes if he looks in the right direction.

"Am I very obvious?" he asks finally.

Bilbo sits neatly next to him. "No. Not very. Kíli. Balin, I think. Thorin – he worries, a little, but I don't think he knows that anything's really wrong. He just worries about everything."

"Not the others?"

"If they know, they haven't talked to me or to Thorin about it." They sit in silence for a minute, until Bilbo nudges him gently. "Is it that bad, Fíli?"

"No. Not that bad."

"Then what is it? You're breaking Kíli's heart, you know."

"I know." Fíli scrubs his face violently. "But it's not – there's nothing to do about it, Bilbo. I just have to keep going, and get used to it."

"A lot of people said there was nothing to do about the dragon in Erebor," Bilbo reminds him.

Fíli huffs out a laugh. "You don't let go of things."

"Not when they matter, no." Bilbo watches him for a moment. "Do you want to go back inside? We don't have to sit out here."

Fíli eyes the door back into the Mountain, barely holding back a shudder. "Why are we out here?"

Bilbo chooses his words with obvious care. "Your city is very beautiful, Fíli. And more beautiful every day, with all the work you're doing. But I'm a Hobbit. Being in there is like being buried alive, sometimes. Sometimes I just need to breathe fresh air and see green. I'm sorry," he adds in alarm.

Fíli concentrates on clearing his expression, because he's obviously frightening Bilbo. "Don't be sorry. I understand. And don't worry. You're not a Dwarf; we don't expect you to follow our ways."

"Some of you don't," Bilbo mutters. "It must seem strange to you, though, the thought of someone preferring being outside to being underground."

"I've lived among Men, Bilbo. And I saw the Shire. It doesn't surprise me at all that you would prefer it to our Mountain."

Something must be in his tone, because Bilbo looks at him sharply, and then keeps looking at him. "Fíli," he murmurs, and there's so much sympathy in his voice Fíli almost comes undone right there.

"Bilbo..."

"Is that it? Truly?"

Fíli gives up, letting his head fall back. "Yes. You have found the only Dwarf in all of Middle Earth who despises being underground."

"You grew up in Ered Luin," Bilbo says blankly.

"On," Fíli corrects him. " _On_ Ered Luin. Not in it. And I haven't lived there in years, not since Kíli was old enough for us to follow Thorin. I was rarely underground for more than a day before here. I worked in forges, not mines. I lived in sunshine and open air, among green, living things. Not dead stone and darkness."

"You need to leave the Mountain more often," Bilbo suggests. "I go out to Laketown or into the woods with Kíli when it gets bad."

Fíli shakes his head. "There's work to do. There's always work to do, and I am Thorin's heir."

"Thorin would spare you..."

Fíli catches at Bilbo's sleeve, hauling him closer and spitting the words from inches away. "Thorin will not ever know about this."

"Not from me," Bilbo says calmly.

Fíli lets go and Bilbo leans back, though he doesn't look scared. "He doesn't need to know why," he says quietly. "Tell him you're inspecting defenses. Tell him you're meeting an envoy. Tell him anything. It's not good for you to be here all the time. Go hunting with Kíli. Go lay in the grass. Go throw stones in the Lake, for all I care. Just go."

Fíli shakes his head, eyes locked on his feet. "If I leave," he says, and oh, it's hard to admit this, "I'm afraid I won't be able to make myself come back."

Bilbo huffs. "You can't never leave, Fíli, that's – it's ridiculous."

"This is our city and I am the heir to its' power. Why would I need to leave?" He can hear the bitter edge in his voice. "I was made to endure, and endure I shall."

"Fíli," Bilbo says, and he sounds like his heart is breaking.

"I'll adjust, Master Hobbit. I am a Dwarf of Durin's line, of the throne of Erebor. This is my home and my heritage, and I will learn to love it as he does. I will." He pushes to his feet, walking inside without looking back. He doesn't allow himself to hesitate at the threshold.

Bilbo keeps his word, or at least Thorin never does anything to indicate he knows – and Fíli is not naive enough to think Thorin wouldn't have something to say about it. As far as he can tell, Bilbo never says anything to Kíli, either. His brother continues to try and pry him out of the Mountain, but not with any more urgency than he had before.

Bilbo mostly avoids him, and Fíli is sorry for that. He quietly redirects Kíli's enthusiasm to the Hobbit, pointing out carelessly that he probably misses the Shire and could do with being distracted. Kíli takes up the task with glee, and now even more of his time is spent outside the Mountain.

Fíli doesn't begrudge him. He _doesn't_. Kíli spent just as much of his life above ground as Fíli did, and he's just as happy in sunlight as Fíli is, if less miserable underground. Thorin grumbles, but he doesn't try to stop his youngest nephew. As long as Kíli is there for the important events – and he's never missed one yet, always at Fíli's shoulder – Thorin doesn't care what he does with his time. He's too busy trying to put their kingdom back together.

Fíli can't leave him. He can't. Thorin still can't deal with the Elves, and though he's avoided succumbing to the dragon sickness so far it will always be a worry. Fíli himself would give the gold away if he thought he could. But if he is not Thorin's heir, Kíli will refuse too, and Dain has his own kingdom to worry about. And Thorin cannot rule alone; he needs the line of Durin to stand strong. Fíli will not be the one to break their rule.

Bilbo finds him in his room again, mid morning on the first day of one of Kíli's hunts. Fíli uses them to mark time, now, since nothing else ever changes down here; no seasons, no new colors.

"May I come in?" Bilbo asks from the door.

"Of course." Fíli puts aside the proposal for a new shaft. "Please, Bilbo, come in. I'm sorry I haven't sought you out."

"You've been busy." It's a light reprimand, but still a reprimand. "Will you walk with me? I feel the need for fresh air."

"At your service," he murmurs. Bilbo smiles, waving towards the door.

Fíli expects the same balcony, but instead Bilbo leads him higher and higher, through the galleries of the Mountain, leaving the city proper far below. They need torches, eventually, as the reflected light spills past without touching them.

Finally they reach a small door. Fíli thinks that this must be the highest point inside the Mountain; he can't see any paths that lead higher. He has no idea how Bilbo even found this place. He doesn't remember it from any of the schematics and maps he's spent hours poring over.

Bilbo opens the door and steps aside to let him out first. Fíli steps through, head down against the wind, and it takes him a moment to focus.

Green. It's green up here. Somehow, against all odds, one tree has taken root, and it's surrounded by grass, and there are flowers among the roots. Fíli takes a single step towards it, almost against his will. He hasn't seen anything like this since the Battle of Five Armies, and he didn't have much time to enjoy it then.

"Finally!" Kíli drops out of the tree, landing easily beside him. "I thought you were never getting here."

"It's a long way up," Bilbo points out from the doorway.

"Yes, but I've been up here forever, and when we're done I have to go catch up to my hunt team." Kíli pouts exaggeratedly, trying to slip around Fíli to slide cold hands down his neck.

Fíli barely notices, shaking him off absently. "What is this?"

Nobody answers, and he looks around to see Bilbo and Kíli exchanging looks. "Kíli."

"Don't be angry," Kíli says, all in a rush. "I know what you sacrificed, we both sacrificed, for Erebor, and it's everything Thorin said and more, and I do love it here."

"But?" Fíli prompts him, vaguely aware that Bilbo has turned away, hands in pockets, and is doing everything short of whistling innocently.

Kíli comes closer, eyes downcast. "It's the Mountain," he breathes, so quiet and shamed Fíli has to strain to hear. "It suffocates me, Fíli. It's so heavy. I know you don't...we should be happy here. We are Dwarves. Please don't be angry with me."

Fíli tugs him forward, pressing their foreheads together, one hand on the back of Kíli's head. "I am not angry," he promises, and he knows Kíli can hear the truth in it. "You should have told me, Kee."

Kíli laughs shakily. "You may not be angry. Uncle would disown me."

Fíli pulls back a little, enough to see him. "Is that why you leave so often?"

"I can't breathe in there, Fíli. It builds, over time, and eventually I have to leave or choke on it. I'm sorry. I know I should be helping you more than I do."

"No. You help me plenty. Don't let – don't worry about that." He remembers Bilbo suddenly, but the Hobbit is still looking away, studying the leaves of the tree as though he can read the future in them. "You found this place, Kíli?"

Kíli nods, glancing around. "I could see the tree, from the Laketown road. I just couldn't figure out how to get to it. Tauriel helped me."

Fíli silently promises Tauriel the finest jewels in Erebor's hoard the next time she comes to them. Elves don't wear much jewelry, he knows, but he'll find her something she'll accept. Maybe weapons, instead. "I'm glad. Does it help?"

"It's a long way up," Kíli says frankly, and then grins. "Yes. It helps."

Fíli pulls him forward, pressing their foreheads together again. "I'm sorry, Kíli. I should have seen it, I should have known."

"How? It's not what you expect from Dwarves. And I didn't want you to see. You're working, you don't need distractions."

"You are never a distraction," Fíli vows softly.

Kíli touches him hesitantly, hand tangling in his braids. "Will you come up here with me, sometimes? I know you don't want to leave Uncle, but an hour? Just to breathe and see green?"

"I will," Fíli says, and he means every word. "Whenever you need it, brother."

Kíli grins and frees himself from Fíli's grip, tugging him towards the tree. "Come and see. You can climb to the top, and you can see the whole world from there."

"The whole world?" Fíli asks with a grin.

"Well, a lot of it, anyway." Kíli glances at Bilbo, eyes dancing. "Want to come, Master Hobbit? Show us where the Shire lies!"

"Ah, no. Thank you. Hobbits don't do well in trees."

Fíli pauses beside him, studying him. Kíli's already halfway up the tree, and Fíli murmurs, "Not homesick, Master Hobbit?"

"I wouldn't say homesick. I'm quite happy here, for now. Anyway, this is about you two, not me. Go climb your tree. I'll wait for you."

Fíli isn't quite as fast as Kíli, but he never was, so it doesn't surprise him. Kíli's leaning against the trunk, almost at the top; Fíli swings onto the branch, catching his balance with some difficulty.

Kíli grins, and Fíli scowls. "Elf."

"Tauriel's taught me some tricks," Kíli agrees lightly. "Turn around, Fíli."

"Planning to push me?"

"Turn around and find out."

Fíli turns, a little awkward, gripping the branch above him for balance. Kíli presses against him from behind, no pressure, only warmth and comfort.

"Look," he murmurs, pointing over Fíli's shoulder, and he turns to look.

The whole world spreads out below their feet, and Fíli can breathe.

Kíli lingers to close the door when they reenter the Mountain. Fíli ushers Bilbo down several steps, out of his earshot. "Is he truly suffering?" he murmurs, one ear tuned to Kíli's movements. "Or did you and he plan this for me?"

Bilbo studies him. "Is one of those better than the other?" he murmurs.

Fíli realises that Bilbo is right. Either his brother was suffering and he didn't notice, or his brother has just lied to him and he couldn't tell. "No."

"Take it for what it is, Fíli. Your brother loves you."

"At your service, Master Hobbit," Fíli whispers, and he means it.

Bilbo smiles, and starts down the stairs, and Fíli waits for his brother.


End file.
